


Jeeves and the Pinnacle of Existence

by amyfortuna



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could be better than a pipe, a cocktail, a good book, and a lazy Sunday afternoon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeeves and the Pinnacle of Existence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [therienne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/therienne/gifts).



“This is the life, Jeeves, old fellow,” I said to my valet one calm Sunday afternoon, sucking lazily on a pipe with a luscious cocktail by my side (prepared for yours truly by that selfsame Jeeves). “Can’t possibly get any better than this. I’ve reached the very pinnacle of existence and life cannot possibly reveal any further pleasures to me.” I lay back in my chair and shut my eyes, stretching out. “Hand me over an improving book, will you, and call me for dinner at the appointed time?”

“Certainly, sir,” Jeeves said in his obsequious manner. I heard the sound of Jeeves walking across the room to the bookshelves, and then the obligatory thwap of that very book he’d selected on the table beside me.

“The New Yorker speaks highly of this book, sir,” he said. “It appears to be a pleasant and charming romance, perfect fare for a light afternoon’s entertainment. The author —”

Like a great blow striking down from the heavens upon our domestic bliss, the doorbell rang. I opened my eyes and sat up, looking up at Jeeves. If I could have seen myself I would have said that I looked upset, nay, rather, angry.

“Who could it be at this hour, on Sunday?”

Jeeves turned to regard the door as though he could see through it (which at times I must confess I wondered if he could).

“Whoever it is, sir, I believe them to be somewhat agitated, as they seem to be pressing the bell at a furious pace.”

From the sound the blasted bell was making, I could tell for myself that this was indeed the case. And of a sudden I took a firm resolve, inherited no doubt from long generations of the Woosters before me.

I turned back to my pipe. “Tell them I’m not home,” I told Jeeves. I could not be seen from the door, so whoever was on the other side would literally have to push their way past Jeeves to enter.

“Very good, sir,” Jeeves said, and turned smoothly to the door. I took up my drink and imbibed a small sip in anticipation of the pleasant afternoon to come.

It was Bingo at the door, demanding to see me. Over Jeeves’ dulcet tones I could hear Bingo saying something about a girl, and how it was very important, and Jeeves needed to let him in straight away.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jeeves said, calmly as ever. “He’s not at home at the moment.”

“Where’s he gone, then?” Bingo was demanding in his efforts to reach my person. I began to be afraid that Jeeves would not be able to hold him off, and he would barge in regardless, and spoil my afternoon. Setting the drink down very carefully, I stood up, edging my way toward my bedroom away from the bluster and the noise.

I was not in time. Bingo suddenly made a leap toward Jeeves, and Jeeves, being the soul of propriety that he is, backed away to avoid Bingo throwing himself into him, thus allowing Bingo to peer into the room and see yours truly. Dashed underhanded of Bingo, I thought to myself.

“There you are, you rascal!” Bingo exclaimed, coming forward and taking me by an anxious hand. “I need your help.”

“Another girl, Bingo?” I said, dropping his hand as if it were made of hot coals. We Woosters are always ready to help a friend in his romantic endeavors, but when one’s friend is Bingo, who has had as many love affairs as he has shirts, the bloom wears off.

“The ONLY girl in the world!” Bingo exclaimed ecstatically. “She says she loves me for who I am, Bertie, that’s all the rage at the moment, apparently. We’re going to be married on Tuesday.”

“Well, then, what’s the trouble?” I said, harboring in my mind the certain and clear knowledge that whenever the hour that Bingo should marry, it would more than likely never be Tuesday, and almost certainly would never happen with this girl at all. “Her father doesn’t care for you?”

As Bingo launched into his tale of woe, complete with story about her cousin who he’d been involved with in some dark lamented past and how she was spreading rumours about because she was jealous, or something of that nature, I could feel my mind drifting back to that perfect spot with the drink and the pipe and the prospect of a pleasant afternoon with a good book.

“No,” I finally said, interrupting Bingo in mid-spiel. “I’m afraid, Bingo, I cannot help you this time. You will have to find a way out of this yourself.” I looked to Jeeves for help. A small smile decorated his face. That was an approving look if there was none other! I continued. “Please depart immediately, Bingo. I’m afraid there is nothing you can do to make me help you this time, though you have got round me in the past.”

“Oh,” Bingo said, with the sort of ‘oh’ that always heralds an attempt at blackmail. I felt my heart sinking. “You’ll help me whether you like it or not, Bertie.”

“Or what?” I demanded.

“Or I’ll go to your Aunt Agatha, and persuade her that Jeeves is — how shall I say — an unhealthy influence upon you, and actively prevents and has prevented your marriage to many eligible young women.”

I laughed. “So? She already knows that, I would presume, and she already doesn’t like Jeeves.”

“There are ways and ways,” Bingo said, “if I were to cast your relation with Jeeves in a certain light,” he paused for a moment, and then continued, “as somewhat more than gentleman and valet, I do say Jeeves would be gone in an instant, or you would face criminal charges.”

“That’s enough!” Jeeves’ face had gone completely white, and the tone he was using was completely unlike any I had ever seen him employ before. I stared in astonishment at him, noticing that his hands were shaking.

“What?” I said, looking from Bingo to Jeeves, completely confused. It seemed they knew something I did not. What Bingo was saying might as well have been Greek to me and all that.

“Get out!” And without another word, Jeeves took Bingo by the scruff of the collar, and pushed him out the door, closing and locking the door behind him. Panting and slightly ruffled, hand still on the doorknob, back against the closed door, Jeeves looked at me.

He just looked at me for a long moment, and there was something in his eyes I could not interpret. Finally he spoke. “I shall have to tender my resignation, sir,” was the only thing he said before stalking off into the kitchen.

I stood there in the middle of the living room. Across the way I could see myself in a mirror and noticed that my mouth was gaping open, my eyes wide. I shut it with a snap and turned to follow Jeeves, intent on demanding an explanation.

I walked into the kitchen, but Jeeves was not there. I finally found him in the pantry, rearranging jars of spice into alphabetical order. His hands were still shaking, and when I looked up at his face I could see the glimmerings of tears in his eyes.

“What, dash it, is going on?” I said, leaning against the doorway of the pantry. “Why do you have to resign from my service?”

He cast a sorrowful glance at me. “I attacked one of your friends, sir, and I stand accused of a crime that could have the both of us hanged.”

I looked at him, even more confused. “You bally well did not attack Bingo. You merely aided him to reach the outside of the apartment perhaps a little more hastily than he would have preferred. If pressed I would say you removed him.” I took a step closer to Jeeves. “But why? What did he say that caused that reaction in you?”

“He was implying that he would tell your Aunt that we were involved, sir.”

“Involved, how?” Nothing anyone was saying seemed to make any sense. Jeeves closed his eyes, sighing a little.

“May I show you, sir?” he asked.

“Anything that sheds a little light on this whole mess would be helpful at this point, Jeeves,” I said.

Jeeves leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

After an initial moment of surprise, I could only feel something like perhaps what a candle feels when it is lighted. My whole body suffused with energy and I began tingling all over. The connection began at his lips, and when he deepened the caress by putting his arms around me, the feelings intensified.

I was the one panting when he pulled away. Instinctively I reached out for him in the darkness of the tiny pantry. “Don’t stop,” I said, almost under my breath. All of me was filled with the sense of him; I could smell him among the spices, the warm hint of the soap he used and a note of something sharper, darker.

He stepped away, very gently. “Ber — sir,” he said, “this is why I have to go. The way I feel, the way we feel —” He stopped, looking at me again with a kind of piercing, sharp look as though he wanted nothing more than to eat me alive. “They say it is wrong, a crime punishable for by hanging, though in this modern age we would probably be remanded to gaol for some time, then mental institutions for the rest of our natural lives. Do you see how important it is that no allegations are made against us?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t. Surely we could prove our innocence. One kiss for demonstration purposes isn’t enough for hanging or even gaol, now, really?”

“Think about it, sir,” Jeeves said. “I do spend an inordinate amount of time breaking up your engagements.”

“Always at my request, Jeeves!” I exclaimed.

“Nobody knows that, do they?” he asked. “From a certain point of view, it could be made to look very much like I’m keeping you for myself, thwarting your potential attempts at a normal happy life. There could very easily be a case made that I have seduced you into an unwilling relation with me.”

“But you haven’t!” I said. “Everything you have done is because I wished it so.”

“Not everything,” Jeeves said. “As you well know.”

“Always with best intentions at heart, then,” I said. “Don’t intentions count for something?”

“In a court of law?” Jeeves said, and did not need to tell me he was being sarcastic for me to get the message.

“So what do we do, then?” I said, and quickly added, “aside from you leaving, because I’m not having that. What else can we do?”

“You could help Bingo,” Jeeves suggested.

“Give in to blackmail, allow him to think he’s right? No.” I was going to put my foot down on this.

“That’s well put, sir,” Jeeves said. “Giving into blackmail is never a good idea, especially of this kind. He would have you dancing to his tune all your life and you would never have a quiet Sunday again.”

“So, what can we do?”

“I don’t know, sir. We shall simply have to wait and see. Perhaps this will all blow over.”

“Perhaps,” I said, but he didn’t sound as confident as the words suggested.

* * *

Time and tide wait for no man, at least that is what the saying seems to state. Nor do aunts. Bingo made good on his promise and told my Aunt Agatha, who came over in high dungeon.

“I will keep this disgraceful news to myself,” she said, “provided you are married within three months. Let Jeeves, who has proved so keen at breaking up your engagements, now seek to have you wed as quickly as may be.” Those were her orders and she gave them with a force that left no doubt she would carry out her own threat, ruining both the life of Jeeves and my own life, if ignored.

Together after she left, he and I considered the prospects, and found them dreadful. Over the intervening days between Bingo’s fateful visit and hers, Jeeves and I had seemed to find ourselves becoming closer, united by trouble, as it were.

Bingo never came ‘round anymore, snubbed by my refusal to help him, or possibly eaten up with guilt at his betrayal. I caught a glimpse of him in the Drones once, but he was talking to someone else and didn’t see me. I felt it wise not to borrow trouble and did not go over. Everyone else treated me just the same, though, so obviously it was only Aunt Agatha he’d told.

In any case, Jeeves and I were cooked for someone to marry me to — not that I wanted to marry anyone anyway. When I looked at my future, all I could see was Jeeves, that pipe, a drink, and a quiet afternoon, except now my daydreams included Jeeves.

He didn’t disappear off to the kitchen to do whatever valets did, but stayed in the living room with a drink and book of his own. Not like a valet, more like a friend. That was how I imagined it, anyway.

An anxious two weeks went by, until good news, the best of all news, arrived at my doorstep. I don’t like calling someone’s death good news, but word that Aunt Agatha had shuffled off this mortal coil could not be greeted with anything but great relief on my part.

In my ecstasy, I fear I forgot propriety completely and found myself clinging to Jeeves like a limpet, my arms around his neck. All of the feelings I had pushed down inside myself somewhere came rushing back to me at the scent and feel of him. Before I knew it I found myself kissing him, felt his lips responding to mine.

He wore a troubled look when the kiss broke, but I could see his eyes shining with happiness.

“Are you sure this is wise, sir?” he said.

“Do you think it wise?” I asked Jeeves, who was the brains of the establishment after all.

“I think it very unwise,” he said slowly and calmly, “but I don’t think that’s going to stop us.” He paused, and then took my hand, leading me into the bedroom, closing the door on the world. The curtains were shut fast and the light was dim in the midday afternoon, almost like candlelight.

“Sir,” he began to say, but I stopped him short, raising my hand.

“I think it more appropriate if you call me Bertie in these sorts of situations,” I said.

He nodded. "Bertie, we must be very careful, if we continue on this path. We cannot allow anyone to find out or to know, ever. We cannot betray ourselves with looks, words, or touches anywhere outside the locked doors of this home. Even curtains, even our shadows against curtains, can give us away. Knowing this and knowing the consequences if we are caught, are you willing to proceed?

I looked up at him, considering. He was staring back down at me with a look I had never seen on his face before. It was not afraid, not calm, not his normal placid look. It was determination and love shining out of his eyes, a love so plainly visible it made my own eyes get a little teary.

“I am.” I took a breath, feeling a little choked up. “I feel like I should be saying: I do.”

His answer was a kiss. Longer and deeper than our first kiss, he moved against me like he wanted to take possession of me, like he wanted to surround me and fill me and complete me. The feeling of his lips against mine, his long body holding me, sent chills down my spine.

Ever so gently, the clothes were stripped from me a piece at a time, punctuated by kisses to revealed bits of skin. Soon I was lying on the bed, feeling dizzy and overwhelmingly in love (at last I knew what dizzy heights that particular pash could reach!), watching him remove his own clothing, setting it aside with perfect precision. It should not have surprised me that he would do this with the elegant perfection he did everything else.

Finally in bed beside me, our bodies embracing with nothing between, he kissed me again, and again. All of me felt lifted up by him, enveloped, embraced. Nothing in the world could possibly compare to this.

He took me into his hand, examining my hardness with questing fingers. I felt like my scope of perspective had narrowed to the length of flesh he was caressing. All of me was his, his to do with as he pleased. This was merely the final surrender on a path that had been started many years ago when he walked into my life.

But this was meant to be made of mutual pleasure, not just my own. I reached out a hand, trailing it down his side. His eyes closed, he shivered with pleasure. Daring a little, my hand slid over his thigh and between his legs, grasping for the warm flesh I felt there.

He was well-endowed with girth as well as length, a well-proportioned erection to match the rest of him. Leaning forward, it was my turn to kiss him, to gently push my tongue inside his mouth, trying everything, wanting to know everything.

His eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, breathless moans escaping into my mouth. The sight of him lost to pleasure was too much; I felt my body give in. Warm sticky fluid flowed over my hand, our fluids mingling together. I fell back, clinging to him as though he were my last hope. He opened his eyes, looking at me with yet another new look from him, and possibly the most beautiful of all, that of the content, satiated lover.

“Jeeves?” I said. “I think I was wrong before when I said I had reached the pinnacle of existence.” I looked into his eyes and bent to kiss him softly before I continued. “I think this is it.”

“Are you sure, Si — Bertie?” he asked, a sly hint of a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. “You never know what the future has in store, after all.”


End file.
